Deception on His Mind (75 page)

There wasn't much to it: two bedrooms, one bathroom, a sitting room, a kitchen. It was on the ground floor, so a tiny terrace directly off the sitting room overlooked the sea. Here, Rachel thought placidly, they would sit in the evenings, with the baby lying in its pram between them.

Looking out of the sitting room window, Rachel drew in a happy breath and pictured the scene. Sahlah's
dupattā
rustled in the North Sea breeze. Rachel's skirt moved gracefully as she rose from her chair to adjust the blanket over the chest of the sleeping infant. She cooed at him—or her, possibly—and gently removed a miniature thumb from the cherub mouth. She caressed the softest little cheek she could ever remember touching, and she brushed her fingers lightly against hair that was …what colour? she wondered. Yes, indeed. What colour
was
his hair, or her hair, for that matter?

Theo was blond. Sahlah was deeply brunette. Their child's hair would be a combination of the two, as would his skin be a combination of Theo's fair complexion and Sahlah's olive tones.

Rachel was simultaneously enchanted by and utterly taken with the thought of this miracle of life that Sahlah Malik and Theo Shaw had created between them. In that moment, she realised that she could hardly wait the months that she knew she
had
to wait to see the form this miracle would actually take.

Suddenly, she understood how very
good
she—Rachel Lynn Win-field—was and could continue to be for Sahlah Malik. She was more than a friend to her. She was a tonic. Exposed to her on a daily basis in the weeks and months until her delivery, Sahlah could only grow stronger, happier, and more optimistic about the future. And everything—
everything
—would work out in the end: Sahlah and Theo, Sahlah and her family, and most of all Sahlah and Rachel herself.

Rachel clasped this knowledge to herself with growing bliss. Oh, she had to dash to Sahlah at the mustard factory to share it all with her. She only wished she had wings so that she could fly there.

The ride across town was gruelling in the fiery sunlight, but Rachel hardly noticed. She pedalled along the sea route at a furious clip, swigging back tepid water from her bottle whenever the slope of the seaside esplanade allowed her to coast. She thought not at all of her discomfort. She thought only of Sahlah and of the future.

Which bedroom would Sahlah like to have? The front one was larger, but the back one faced the sea. The sound of the sea might lull the baby. It might lull Sahlah as well, in those moments when the responsibilities of motherhood weighed too heavily upon her shoulders.

Would Sahlah like to do the cooking for the three of them? Her religion placed restrictions on her diet, and Rachel herself was easier than easy when it came to adjusting to that sort of thing. So it made sense for Sahlah to cook for them. Besides, if Rachel was to be the breadwinner while Sahlah remained home with the baby, Sahlah would probably want to cook their meals as Rachel had seen Wardah Malik do for Sahlah's dad. Not, of course, that Rachel was going to act the part of anyone's dad, least of all the dad of Sahlah's baby! That would be Theo. And Theo
would
act that role eventually. He would do his duty and meet his obligations, in time and when his gran was recovered.

“’Cording to the doctors, she could live for years,” Mr. Unsworth had told them that morning. “She's a real battleship, is Mrs. Shaw. A bird like that is one'n a hunnerd. And all's the more better for us, right? She won't die till Balford's back on its feet. You wait and see, Con. Things're looking up.”

So they were. Every which way, things were looking up. And as Rachel made the final left turn into the old industrial estate at the north end of the town, she felt near to bursting with the need to pour her happiness like balm over Sahlah's worries.

She climbed off her bike and leaned it against a half-full skip that was open to the air. This was redolent with the smell of vinegar, apple juice, and rotting fruit, and it buzzed with flies. Rachel flailed her hands round her head to drive the pesky insects away. She took a last gulp of water, settled her shoulders, and made for the factory door.

Before she could get to it, however, it opened as if in anticipation of her arrival. Sahlah stepped outside. She was followed immediately by her father, not garbed all in white, which was usual for him during his working hours in the factory's experimental kitchen, but dressed in what Rachel thought of as mufti: a blue shirt and tie, grey trousers, and nicely polished shoes. A luncheon date between father and daughter, Rachel concluded. She hoped her news about Agatha Shaw didn't spoil Sahlah's appetite. But then again, no matter if it did. Rachel had other news that would revive it.

Sahlah saw her at once. She was wearing one of her fancier necklaces, and at the sight of Rachel, her hand went up to grip it lightly as if it were a talisman. How often had she seen that gesture in the past? Rachel wondered. It was the primary sign of Sahlah's anxiety, and Rachel hurried forward to put this at rest.

“Hello, hello,” she called out gaily. “Beastly hot again, isn't it? When d'you think the weather's going to break? That fog bank's been out there in the sea for ages, and all we need's some wind to blow it this way and we'll be cooled off. D'you have a minute, Sahlah? ’Lo, Mr. Malik.”

Akram Malik said his good afternoon formally, the way he always said it, just like he was addressing the Queen. And he neither studied her face nor looked away from it hastily the way other people did, which was one of the reasons that Rachel liked him. He said to his daughter, “It will take a moment to fetch the car, Sahlah. Speak to Rachel while I do so.”

When he had walked off, Rachel turned to Sahlah and impulsively hugged her. She said in a low voice, “I've done it, Sahlah! Yes, indeed. I've done it. Everything's taken care of now.”

Beneath her hand, she felt the tension immediately drain out of Sahlah's stiff shoulders. Her friend's fingers dropped from the fawn stone pendant of the necklace, and she swung to face Rachel.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. She reached for Rachel's hand and lifted it as if she meant to kiss her knuckles in gratitude. “Oh,
thank
you. I couldn't believe you'd abandon me, Rachel.”

“I'd never do that, would I? I told you so a thousand times. We're friends till the end, you and me. The minute I heard about Mrs. Shaw, I knew how you'd feel, so I went out and did it. Have you heard what happened?”

“The stroke? Yes. One of the town councillors phoned Dad about it. That's where we're going: to the hospital to pay our respects.”

Theo would doubtless be there, Rachel realised. She felt an interior niggle at this news, but she couldn't put a name to what it was. She said stoutly, “That's real nice of your dad. But that's what he's like, isn't he? And that's why I'm sure—”

Sahlah went on as if Rachel hadn't spoken. “I told Dad they'd probably not let us near her room, but he said that's not the point. We're going to the hospital to show our support to Theo, he said. He was generous with his help when we started using computers in the factory, and this is how we must respond to his present troubles: in friendship. The English form of
lena-dena.
That's how Dad explains it.”

“Theo'll appreciate that,” Rachel said. “And even if this stroke of his gran's means he can't do his duty by you now, Sahlah, he'll remember how good you acted in going to the hospital to visit. So when his gran's all better, you'll be together, you and Theo, and he'll do his duty like a proper dad. Just wait and see.”

Sahlah had still been holding on to Rachel's hand. But now she released it. “Like a proper dad,” she repeated. Her fingers climbed to seek the pendant once more. It was the finishing piece on one of Sahlah's least successful necklaces, an undefined mass of what looked like limestone but was—according to Sahlah's explanation—a fossil from the Nez. Rachel had never much liked it and had always been glad that Sahlah had never offered it for sale at Racon. The piece was far too heavy, she thought. People didn't want their jewellery to hang upon them like a guilty conscience.

“Sure,” she said. “‘Course, things're bad at the moment, so he won't be seeing the future too clear. That's why I moved fast without talking to you. Once I heard about what happened to Mrs. Shaw, I saw that Theo couldn't really do right by you while he was getting her back on her feet. But he
will
do right by you eventually, and until he does, you need someone to take care of you and the baby, and that someone's me. So I went to the Cliff top—”

“Rachel, stop,” Sahlah said quietly, and she'd taken to clutching her pendant so hard that Rachel could see that her hand was shaking. “You said everything was taken care of. You said …Rachel, haven't you arranged …? Got me the information …?”

“I've got the flat, is what I've done,” Rachel said joyfully. “I just signed the papers. I wanted you to be the first to know because of what's happened to Mrs. Shaw. She's going to need someone to take care of her, see.
Constant care
is what they're saying. And you know Theo: He'll prob'ly dedicate himself to her till she's all recovered. Which means he won't be taking you away. He
could
do that, of course, but I sort of don't think he will, do you? She's his gran and she's raised him, right? And he'll see his first duty to her. So I got the flat so you have a place for you and the baby till Theo's got himself all clear on what his second duty is. Which is you. The two of you, that is.”

Sahlah closed her eyes as if the sun were suddenly too bright. At the end of the lane, Akram's BMW came rumbling towards them. Rachel considered whether she ought to announce her purchase of the flat to Sahlah's dad. But she rejected that plan in favour of letting her friend find the right time to break the news. She said, “You'll have to hold out a month or six weeks till everything goes through, Sahlah: the building society, the loan, you know. But we c'n use the time to look at furniture and buy our linens and stuff like that. Theo c'n go with us if he wants. That way, the two of you c'n choose things that you c'n use later, when you're with him instead of with me. See how it'll all work out?”

Sahlah nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do see.”

Rachel was delighted. “Good. Oh
good.
So when d'you want to start looking? There's some decent shops in Clacton, but I expect we might do better for ourselves if we went to Colchester. What d'you think?”

“Whatever's best,” Sahlah said. Her voice was still low and her eyes were on her approaching father. “You decide, Rachel. I'll leave it to you.”

“You're seeing it my way now, and you won't regret it,” Rachel said confidently. She put her head nearer Sahlah's as Akram braked the car a few feet away and waited for his daughter to join him. “You c'n tell Theo when you see him, now. The pressure's off everyone. So everyone can do what's completely right.”

Sahlah took a step towards the car. Rachel stopped her with a final remark. “Ring me when you're ready to start looking, okay? For furniture and linens and dishes and things. You'll want to break the news to everyone, and I know that's likely to take a bit of time. But when you're ready, we'll start our shopping. For the three of us. Okay, Sahlah?”

Her friend finally looked away from her father, meeting Rachel's gaze with eyes that seemed somehow unfocused, as if her mind were a million miles away. Which, of course, it would be, Rachel realised. There were so many plans to make.

“Ring me?” Rachel repeated. “Whatever's best,” Sahlah replied.

“
I KNEW IT'D
look like an accident to everyone if I didn't do something to change the picture,” Hegarty continued.

“So you moved the body into the pillbox and you vandalised his car. That way, the police would know it was a murder,” Barbara concluded for him.

“I couldn't think of anything else,” he said frankly. “And I couldn't come forward. Gerry'd know then. And I'd've been cooked. It's not like I don't
love
Gerry, see. It's just that sometimes the thought of having one bloke for the rest of my life …Shit, it feels like a prison sentence, if you know what I mean.”

“And how d'you know that Gerry isn't already in the picture?” Barbara asked. Theo Shaw aside, here was yet another English suspect. She avoided Emily Barlow's eyes.

“What d'you …?” Hegarty suddenly saw where the question was heading. He said quickly, “No. It wasn't Ger on the clifftop. No way. He doesn't know about me and Hayth. He
suspects,
but he doesn't know. And if he did, he wouldn't've offed Hayth. He would've just sent me packing.”

Emily pushed past this diversion. “Was the figure you saw on the clifftop a man or a woman?”

He couldn't tell, he said. It was dark, and the distance from the pillbox to the clifftop was too great. So as to age, as to sex, as to race or identity … He just didn't know.

“The figure didn't come down to the beach to check on Querashi?”

No, Hegarty said. Whoever it was, the person had hurried north along the top of the cliff, in the direction of Pennyhole Bay.

Which was, Barbara thought with triumph, more support for the theory of a killer arriving by cabin cruiser. “Did you hear a boat's engine that night?”

He didn't hear anything but his own heart slamming against his eardrums, Hegarty said. He waited five minutes beside the pillbox, trying to collect himself and trying to think. He was in such a sweat that he wouldn't've noticed a nuclear explosion ten yards away.

Once he gathered his wits—three minutes, maybe five—he did what had to be done, which took—maybe—quarter of an hour. Then he scarpered. “Only boat engine I heard was my own,” he said.

“What?” Emily asked.

“The boat,” he said. “That's how I got there. Gerry's got a motor-boat that we use at the weekends. I always took that when I was meeting Hayth. I came up the coast from Jaywick Sands. It's more direct, that way, more exciting as well. And I like it to build. The excitement. You know.”

So here was the boat that had been heard in the water off the Nez that night. With a sinking heart, Barbara wondered if they were back at square one. She said, “While you were waiting for Querashi, did you hear anything then? Another boat's motor? Large and running low?” He hadn't, he said. But the figure up on the top of the cliff would have been there before him anyway. The trap was set when Haytham got there, because Hegarty hadn't seen anyone near the steps until after he fell.